Breakfast With a Side of Revolution

The back room of the diner was packed today
Everyone was in attendance
I had expected no less
They all stood when I walked into the room
Several nodded their heads at me
"Good morning, General"

I wasn't used to that yet
But someone has to lead
Take the blame when it all goes wrong
Take the blame when it all goes right
Either way, I'm the man

I sit up at one end of the square arrangement of tables
Our waitress walks in the middle of the tables
Pouring coffee, being gawked at
Her short skirt giving an imaginary glimpse of heaven
I smiled at her
She was my best friend's daughter
She was one of us

Breakfast was served
Always cooked with excellence
Men around the tables talking amongst themselves
Some about their unit assignments
A couple texting last minute orders to the men in the field
Everyone had their mind on the business at hand

I glanced at my tablet
Almost all the units had checked in so far
Only shy Alaska and Hawaii to complete the fifty
Hawaii was going to be the toughest
Being in such a different time zone
We'd had to make smaller four man teams
And send them out to homes
To collect our targets
I still had a nagging feeling that we should have done that with all the states
On that point I had to concede
That if we wanted maximum impact
The initial blow had to be broadcast live
And it had to be seen by as many people as possible
For that, they had to be awake

I cracked my knuckles
Popping a few stress bubbles in the process
The last two units checked in
My tablet screen turned green
I stood up and regarded the map on the wall behind my chair
Colored pins marking certain places
Faces associated with those pins flashed through my head
Little flags off one pin in each state had a little name flag on it
I'd allowed the Unit commanders to choose their own code names

Some chose something associated with the state they were in charge of
Others chose something from movies
Others......I have no idea why they chose what they chose

The first time I contacted the man I now had to call "Mr. Pink"
I had had a hard time not laughing when I said it
But the next time I call upon the Commander of Florida
I won't be laughing
This is no laughing matter

It was just after eight in the morning
I turned to the group of coordinators
All watching me quietly now
Assorted devices in front of each of them
Their tools of armed rebellion in this age

"Give them the go"

We Hang Traitors In These Here Parts

It was something out of an old Western movie
A dirty rusty metal barred cell
A fat jailer with a huge ring of keys
Who smoked, and took joy in blowing it towards me
Causing me to cough uncontrollably
There was something wrong with my lungs

I knew that today was my last day
And although this was 2015
There was a wooden gallows erected in the center of the city
There were four hemp rope nooses
All carefully tied there
Four trapdoors
Rigoroously tested yesterday
The terrible sounds coming to me from the open windows

Kathunk!
A short pause
Then the almost inaudable sound of the hemp rope
Being snapped tight

Sometimes they'd get all four of them going in sync
So it sounded like a "Kathunk!" quartet
And you could really hear the ropes right after the pause

Those were the most goosebump inducing ones
The all four at once Kathunk!-pause-snap stretch quartets
Those are the ones that I winced at
Those are the ones that the fat bastard jailer laughed at
His eyes were on me constantly
There would be no escape from this place
His gaze
Or my fate

It was treason
Certainly a hangable offense
And those of us that hadn't been killed outright
Had been rounded up
Tried publicly
Sentenced to death
Gathered here in this old building
To be hung until we were dead, dead, dead

I'm trying to nap
I'd turned down my last meal
I figured, why bother?
I had just almost dozed off
Occupying that happy place
Halfway betwixt awake and asleep
When that fat jailer Smacked his keyring against the bars

Snapping me awake

I'd rolled over and knocked my pouch off the bedstand
I always kept my keys, change, and wallet in it
It just kept it all in one place is all
I hate it when you set things down and forget where

I'd overslept, but not too bad
There was still time to shower and get down to the diner
To continue my long tradition of attending
The meeting of the minds that gather there

And today was special
It was almost zero hour
Preparations over ten years in the making
Finally coming to fruition
So there would be some empty chairs at this mornings gathering
And a few fresh faces as well

Several of us had branches out across the country
So supervise the plan
Others had come here to assist the home office
Much had been done
Propaganda and recruitment
Purchasing and secure storage
A decade's worth like I said

I scrub my hair slowly
Enjoying the feel of my fingers squishing in the soapy hair
Hoping I'll get a chance to shower again soon
But knowing it's not likely

The plan is 30 days to revolution
30 days to make change for good
To play like founding fathers
To act as citizens should

Drying off briskly
Carefully putting on my clothes
A last look in the mirror
Time to go
I don't want to be late

Regards The Reaper

I mock death
Because it is ridiculous
It is relentless
It is inevitable
It is like breathing
Like walking
Like talking
It requires no thought
It’s always there
It can be ignored
For it cannot be avoided
Might as well worry about the sun coming up
Or the moon waxing and waning
It’ll do as much good.
So I mock it
I laugh about it.
I cry about it.
Never when I’m supposed to
Never when I want to.
It’s the elephant in the room
That I quietly make fun of
Bring it up at your peril.
I might laugh at your weeping
Giggle at your grief
Respect the dead?
Why?
They’re dead.
Put up monuments to lives past?
I’ll pass
If their works
Or influence cannot stand on their own when they’re gone
They deserve not
Any memorial
That man could supply.
We are just food for the next generation.
In thought, blood and bone.
Be at peace with that.
I might just drink to your memory.
But only once.
The rest will be for me.

A Baby Protest

Don’t call me babe
I don’t suckle at your breast
Drinking your milky goodness
That flavor that I like best
Drawn from your brown nipple
Warm and soft one minute
Firm and in my mouth for the next nine

I don’t then rest my head upon your shoulder
Warmly and wetly burping my baby best
Occasionally spraying a bit of spit up
To all points of the compass
North south east and west

I certainly don’t snuggle up to you then
And play idly with your ear
As my eyes grow heavy and burry
The footsteps of the sandman louder and more near

I definitely would not
Tolerate being carried in your arms
Breathing quietly
At the mercy of your charms
Tucked in tightly
In a caged comfortable bed
I have to visit nightly

I’m not your baby anymore
I’m a big boy now
I’ll show you too
I’m almost ready
I’d love to tell you
But alas I cannot as of yet talk
But I have been working out
And soon I’ll wow you with my walk

All these things I claim I am not
Of course I really am
So enjoy me well
I’m growing as fast as I can

Until then,
Goo goo
Gaa gaa
And don't you forget it Mama!

Every Day Has Its Day

Every day
Every fucking day

Someone died
Someone was born
Someone was __________
Fill in the fucking blank

Someone was
Someone did
Someone achieved

We’ve been around this rock
For more than several years now
Should everyone have their own day?
Should your fifteen minutes become a holiday instead?

I’m finding it hard to care anymore
About every ‘special’ day
Or anniversary of an event
That comes up

They come up every day
Every hour
Every second

You know what?
I think I’ll have more respect and reverence
For the thing that you choose NOT
To make a holiday
Or an anniversary
Or a commemoration
Or a moment of silence
About

Forgive me
This was “Write a Ranty Bit” day
I’ve done my part
Now shut up

Tire Hangar Hypnotic

My eyes are drawn to it
As I approach from the rear
The swinging pendulum of fascination
The "look at me" there's something missing
Flashing neon light
Eat At Joe's

Spare tire hanger swing-in-ation

It's just hanging in the breeze
Allowing gravity to tug at it
First this way
Then that
As the truck curves around curves
And turns around turns
Angling towards me as they accelerate
Trying to pull away as they brake

I can't keep my eyes off of it

I wonder in my head
If they even have a spare tire anymore
Or if it's already on the car
Or forgotten in some dusty garage
Or empty field

I guess I'm just one of those people
Those ones your parent's warned you about
The kind that likes to know
That if I actually had a blowout
Or run over a screw
That there would be a plan in place
Something logical and simple
A place on the vehicle to stash a spare
With a jack and a wrench to add assist

On this particular truck
All logic like that would be missed
If that person has a flat
Or has a bear chew on his left rear
They'll be stuck wherever they are at

Flare down
Red hanky on the antennae
Whatever mode of signaling tickles them most
Because they won't be going anywhere
With the spot where
You would find the spare
Nothing but empty air
The hangar dangling in space
Waving every which where

And if they flag me down as I pass
I may slow
I may stop
Depends on the who

And if it's a chick
I'll certainly pull over to assist
Provided of course
She first shows her tits

Smooth As Silk

Smooth as silk
Sexy as hell
I want that porn star look
I know I’ll wear it well
Brand new Schick in plastic
I’m taking it home
To ravage my package

Everyone will be jealous
If I were to show them
Maybe I will
Via a Facebook still

I know I’ll be accused
Of Too Much Information
But I don’t give a damn
I want to share my dehairination

What to use?
Oh I guess just my trusty Barbasol
It’s served me in the past
And I’ve got sensitive skin
I grab a handful of foam
And dive right in

The first stroke
Was almost a joke
It came off so easy
I wasn’t worried
Almost getting cocky
All bent in half
To get a better view
Of my junk

Seems hard to get into the corners
The crannies if you will
I grasp my sack gently
Stretching it tight
For a close pass

Suddenly a burning sensation
Holy shit!
I throw water on it quickly
But that seems the wrong thing to do
As it just makes it worse
I bend over to take a look at the damage
And see that I’ve taken a bit too much off
All those wonderful wrinkles
That make it look like a walnut
I’ve taken the tops right off those ridges
Now a spiderweb of red lines
Marks the path of that new Schick

As I lay in bed that night
With that unending burning
Tight upon my balls
I take a mental note
To never
Ever
Do that again